


Hot Fuss

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Series: Through the Rabbit Hole [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean begin to integrate into life on Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Fuss

“Tough shit, Peters,” Laura says. “You want to go through the Gate, you have to check out on weapons. And I’m the one who makes that happen.”

Peters crosses his arms and clenches his jaw. Jackass. Laura doesn’t know if he objects to the idea of guns in general or if a woman’s finger on the trigger is what really sticks in his craw, but she had already had enough of his attitude before he got both feet through the door. No wonder Sellers begged off armory duty this morning; she must have known Peters was up for review. To his right, Smith looks increasingly twitchy as Laura calls up a fresh set of targets. Laura will have to watch him; he’s nervous enough to be dangerous. The other two in the group—Winchester, Laura remembers; Sam and Dean—they’re both grinning at the rack of Berettas like they’ve never seen anything so pretty. The brothers have only been here a few weeks, but apparently they made a hell of an impression on Sheppard because they’re tagging along with his team to MX7-865 in two days. Laura’s been offworld herself most of the time the Winchesters have spent in Atlantis. She wonders what all the fuss is about.

Laura field strips and reassembles a P-90 in sixteen seconds, just because she can, and Dean whistles softly between his teeth and pokes his brother in the ribs. Laura tamps down her own grin and patiently shows the group how all the pieces fit together. She makes them assemble the weapon, over and over again, until even Smith seems competent enough for government work. Sam and Dean get with the program almost instantly, and Laura lets them help the others once she realizes Dean is intent on beating her demonstration time at the beginning of class. 

Smith nearly faints when Laura has them actually load their weapons, but he eventually calms down and turns out to be a fairly decent shot. Peters couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn from two feet, and given the sheer number of bullets the P-90 spews per second, that’s one of the most astonishing feats Laura has seen in two galaxies. Laura’s not surprised that Sam and Dean both qualify with the P-90 on the first round, but when she sees how accurate they are with the pistol, she’s impressed. Dean’s a better shot than Sam, but not by much, and Laura estimates that Sam could outshoot more than half the soldiers on Atlantis.

Two days later, Laura knows that for sure.

She finds Dean sitting on the west pier with his back against a pylon and his legs dangling out over the edge. The water is far below them, but his jeans are damp to the knee from salt spray. Dean doesn’t look at her.

“How do you do it?” he says to his hands.

Laura sits down beside him. “Do what?”

Dean makes a gesture that seems to encompass all of Pegasus and then thumps his head back against the pylon. “I’ve only trusted a handful of people in my life. My dad. Sammy. Bobby. Pastor Jim. That’s it. But here?” He shakes his head. “Here I have to trust everyone, complete and total trust, or I’m dead. Or Sam is.” Dean looks at her then. “How do you do it? You can’t know everybody here. Not really. Not enough to have that kind of faith. How do you do it?” His eyes are dark and huge and a bruise is just purpling over his left cheekbone and Laura wants to put her hand on his bare arm and squeeze, but she doesn’t.

“The simple answer is, it’s my job. I’m a Marine. I’ve been trained to put my life and my trust in the hands of others based on their rank and position.” Laura pauses, considering. “The not so simple answer is that Atlantis is different from any other posting I’ve ever had. More than any other group I’ve served with, these people deserve my trust and my respect. And that takes time to figure out.”

Dean nods like that’s the answer he expected and Laura reaches out then, his bicep cold under her fingers. “You did the right thing,” she says. “Nobody’s dead. Nobody’s in the infirmary. You followed orders and everybody made it back through the Gate alive. You should read Colonel Sheppard’s report. I think he’ll be sorry when you and Sam head back to Earth.”

Laura wants to ask if Dean will be sorry, but she doesn’t think he’s ready to answer that question. “Come on,” she says and sticks out her hand. They haul each other up and when Laura leaves him outside the door of his quarters, Dean looks a little less edgy, a little less lost than before.

She doesn’t see Dean again until the party. Lorne’s team Gated back to Atlantis earlier in the day with more Ancient tech than any team has ever recovered from a single offworld site and Weir decreed that a little celebrating was in order. Laura agrees.

Somebody has pushed all the tables and chairs in the mess against the wall to make a dance floor. McKay is swaying awkwardly with Katie Brown under a panel of multi-colored blinking lights and Laura is glad. She had suspected that McKay would be elbows deep in circuits about now. Over by the punch bowl, Teyla is showing Heightmeyer a complicated move that involves kicking her leg up higher than Laura thinks should be humanly possible, but Heightmeyer rises to the challenge. Zelenka leads a round of applause. 

Then Laura spots Dean. He’s nursing a drink over in the corner and watching Teyla and Heightmeyer. Laura weaves her way through the crowd and leans against the wall next to him.

“Hey, Cadman,” Dean says and smiles at her, sweet and more than a little wicked, and Laura is grateful she taught herself to lose the blush back during basic.

“Where’s Sam?” she says.

Dean points with his cup over to the balcony where Laura can see Sam pressed hip to hip with Ronon and whispering in his ear. She raises an eyebrow. Dean shrugs.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?” Laura says.

“Oh, hell no,” Dean says. “I’ve already been smacked down today by one alien space princess. I mean that literally. Smacked down.” He pulls up his sleeve and shows her the parallel bruises Teyla’s bantos sticks left behind.

Laura grins. “I’m no princess.”

“Is that so?”

Dean is a good dancer and Laura lets herself forget everything except his hands on the small of her back, his warm breath in her hair. No one has held her this way since she and Carson split. He’s probably here somewhere, watching her dance with Dean, but Laura can’t make herself worry about that too much just now.

Laura buries her face in Dean’s neck, her hips grinding against him on the downbeat, and finally one of Dean’s hands slides down to her ass. Laura smiles where Dean can’t see, into the curve of his throat, and then she pulls away. “Want to get out of here?” she says.

Dean glances at the balcony and back. “Lead the way.”

They don’t make it to her quarters.

Laura finds walking and kissing over long distances incredibly difficult so before long she shoves Dean into an empty lab and rips open the buttons on his jeans. Dean’s mouth feels so good on Laura’s breasts when she shucks her shirt, and his cock feels good in Laura’s hand—hard and already slick with wanting her. He sucks at her nipples until they’re red and deliciously swollen and she forgets to move her hand on his dick. Then Dean hefts Laura up on somebody’s work station and peels her BDUs down to her ankles. His mouth between her legs is even better, that clever tongue fucking into her, flicking over her clit until her vision whites out. Laura lets Dean make her come a handful of times before she drops to her knees and sucks him down. Dean makes the most fantastic noises when she’s sucking his cock—needy little whimpers—that make Laura want to come again. So she does, fucking herself slowly with three fingers.

“So hot,” Dean says, watching her thumb make lazy circles on her clit, and then he comes, his hands twisted in her long hair.

They just manage to get all their clothes back on before Smith keys open the door to the lab and turns beet red before stammering, “So sorry. Sorry. Just needed one quick, yes, yes, I’ll come back later.”

Dean doubles over with this wonderful infectious laugh, and Laura can’t help but join in. They stumble through the corridors of Atlantis, giggling and thumbing tears from the corners of their eyes and when Dean kisses her goodnight in front of her quarters, Laura thinks she has some idea of what the fuss is all about.


End file.
